"i don't care if monday's blue,
tuesday's gray and wednesday too,
thursday i don't care about you,
it's friday i'm in love"
Monday;
Josh Hotz has never been one for chaos.
That was evident enough, with his immaculately organized notes, crammed-with-assignment-due-dates planner, and typerwriter-esque handwriting. His clothes were always perfectly pressed, he was always on time, he followed the speed limit exactly while driving, and he had never received any grade lower than an A. Ever. In fact, the only thing seemingly wild about Josh was his hair, dark and messy locks that stuck out in every direction.
That was as chaotic as Josh Hotz got.
While his friends—the type of people who viewed rules more as suggestions rather than a code to live by and believed themselves to be part of the "A-list"— were occasionally bothered by his Type A personality, they couldn't deny that his carefully planned coolness and calmness under pressure came in handy. Especially when it came to getting them out of sticky situations, of course. Josh was, as expected, always the voice of reason. If it wasn't for that, along with his soccer skills and excellent math notes, he wouldn't have been included in that exclusive group.
"This project will be half of your final grade in this class, so I do advise you to put forth your best effort. You have only until Friday..." Mr. Fielder, the stereotypically boring history teacher, drawled. He was only really being listened to by the unlucky students with seats in the front of the room.
Josh, a resident member of The Back of The Room (where the A-list had claimed as their spot, of course), was probably the only one in his group to be listening. Nothing, not even Chris Plovert's story of the wild Upper West Side party he attended, could damage his perfect grade point average. Plus, he was at Briarwood on scholarship, he couldn't risk it.
"...which is why I will be assigning your partners," the teacher added rather sharply, with all of the students suddenly sitting up to listen. Mr. Fielder pulled a list off his signature clipboard and began to recite partners.
"Massie Block and Derrick Harrington." The pair looked at each other with a cool nod, even though everybody else knew that it could only be fate putting them together. More pairs were announced, and Josh found himself silently praying that he wouldn't get stuck with Plovert (who would do nothing) or Kristen Gregory (who would do it all) or Claire Lyons (who would insist they do each other).
"Claire Lyons and..." Josh swore that Fielder's gaze rested on him before saying, "Chris Plovert." He could've cried with relief.
"Which leaves, of course, Layne Abeley," in hindsight, he really should have seen it coming, "and Josh Hotz."
His eyes darted to Layne, who was staring out the window with a dreamy expression and her earphones in. Mr. Fielder cleared his throat, "Miss Abeley? Did you—"
"Yeah," she interrupted him quickly, snapping back into reality, "I heard you."
Something about her raspy voice along with her wide eyes made Josh so utterly confused. She was spacey and too perceptive at the same time. But that wasn't the reason that he felt a pang in his stomach as her name was called along his. Layne was a peculiar mix of disorder, disarray, and disarrangement.
Layne Abeley lived for chaos.
Josh knew that from the moment he had caught a glimpse of her last year. A year ago, she had been quite the commodity by transferring into Briarwood (where only overachievers or trust funders attend) right in the middle of the year. Some said it was because she was heiress to a European oil company, some said it was because she crushed the entrance exams with a perfect score—something never before achieved.
She appeared to be neither a genius or a future billionaire. In fact, Josh remembered quite clearly being in awe of the girl who showed up on her in a pair of paint splattered men's trousers, a cut up bright yellow shirt thrown haphazardly over a purple blouse, and finished it off with a pair of grungy boots. Nobody knew if she was trendy or crazy, but then again, nobody really knew Layne Abeley. From the first steps she took into the school, she was destined to be an outsider.
And so she was. Ever since then, Layne has been That Girl. That Girl who spent her free periods eating alone while reading a book or blasting music. That Girl whose clothes are so much louder than she is. That Girl who was teased relentlessly by some of the A-list.
Yes. He was going to be working with that girl.
Tuesday;
"Josh Hotz," Layne called his name out in the crowded courtyards. Every lunch period, Josh and friends claimed the big oak tree to eat (in some of the girls' case, pretend to eat), talk, and make plans for the weekend. No where in that de facto schedule was "Meet with Layne Abeley."
While he and others were intrigued by Layne at first, they lost interest fast. She never really talked to anyone, almost preferring to be alone. Plus, girls who dressed like they had robbed a thrift store weren't exactly accepted by the clean cut, designer obsessed students at Briarwood, of all places.
She repeated his name again. And once more. That was probably the loudest she's ever been.
"Gee, Josh," Kristen said with a giggle, "you've got an admirer." Claire snapped to attention; she had supposedly "claimed" Josh since the day he transferred from Hotchkiss. He never reciprocated her feelings, much to her dismay. While Josh had never partaken in any casual hookups or had a real girlfriend, he wasn't about to settle with someone as air-headed as Claire for the sake of gaining experience.
Claire's nose scrunched at the sight of Layne. "Layme Abeley. God, what a freak," she snorted. The rest of the group echoed her sentiments, excluding Josh because as a rule, he didn't like to trash talk people. Especially when they were fifteen feet away.
"Have you seen the way she dresses?" Kristen added in her annoyingly nasal voice.
Derrick took the more sympathetic route. "Maybe she had some mental thing?"
Claire scoffed. "Being a total psycho isn't a mental thing." It took all of Josh's willpower not to laugh in her face.
Taking a new approach, she wheeled on her ratty sneaker clad foot toward the oak tree. Josh had never noticed how tall she was, as she reached the group in only a few paces. "Josh," she began, ignore his friends' snickers in the background, "we have to work on this project for history. Starting today."
Josh stood up from his comfortable spot to face her. "Um," he said with a cough, "sure. When and where should we meet?" At least she was serious about this project, even if she was a bit bossy.
Layne was all business. She dug inside her tattered messenger bag and grabbed a crumpled yellow piece of paper. She thrust the note into his hands with a bit more force than expected. "Tabitha's. Three sharp. Address is all there," she answered briskly.
He scanned over the paper, mentally navigating the route to get there. "Alright. Should we exchanged numbers or— " But when he looked up from the paper, Layne was gone.
Tabitha's Cafe was exactly the place somebody like Layne would go to.
Located in the old part of Westchester, it was situated among other tiny, ancient stores. The second Josh walked in, he was overcome with the smell of strong coffee, incense, and dust. When he managed to open his eyes after a coughing fit, he knew where the scents came from.
Tabitha's was a small, but admittedly cozy, cafe with old sofas, chintz armchairs, and rocking chairs strewn about. The walls were painted yellow, blue, and pink with newspaper and magazine clipping collages on each wall. An old bookcase was right next to the counter. But the filled room was made all the more crowded with the collection of noisy college students lounging around. In fact, Josh noticed that the students dressed a bit like Layne with their mismatched, ill-fitting, vintage duds. He felt like an outcast in his own neatly pressed clothes.
Trying to gain some control over himself, he took a seat on a green sofa and took out his textbooks. It was 2:58, so Layne should have been arriving any minute now.
3:00 came and Josh sighed, opening his textbook and trying to look for a subject to base their project on.
3:05 passed and he wondered if Layne was caught up in traffic.
3:10 arrive and Josh was wrapped up in the possibility that Layne wasn't going to show up at all and gave him the wrong address to mess with him because of what his friends said about her. It was a very strong possibility. If she wasn't here at 3:15, he decided he'd just go back home and try to regain some of his pride.
At 3:34 precisely, Layne finally waltzed into Tabitha's with a huge smile on her face. As she made her way over, Josh studied her quizzically. He had never seen Layne smile. Smirk, yes. Smile, no. It was nice, nonetheless. Almost nice enough to make him forget she was late. Almost.
"Where were you?" Josh questioned, with more of an edge to his voice than he planned. He didn't "bad cop" very well.
Layne chuckled, then fiddled with her short, messy brown hair. "Truthfully," she began, waving at a few girls at the counter, "I forgot." She handed him her history notebook. It was tattered, with doodles and sketches on each page. The actual notes were written everywhere in every color in every direction. No wonder she was so out of it during that class.
Flaky, thought Josh, of course she was flaky. Everything about her screamed flaky. The whole cafe seemed flaky. But, he had some hope when she had approached him at lunch, all cool and collected. He assumed she was serious about the project. It just went to prove that assuming things could only lead to—
"But then I remembered," she added swiftly, pulling out a stack of papers, "and headed to the library. I think we should do our project on ancient Rome and how that civilization parallels with the United States. Fielder will eat it up." Dumbstruck, Josh flipped through the papers. Incredible. She had printed out essays from various historians on their topic with some basic facts about Rome.
She took his silence as disagreement. "Is this cool with you?"
"Yeah," he sputtered out, still in shock at the fact Layne put forth some effort, "it's perfect. I'm just surprised, is all." Instantly, he regretted the last part. His face flushed and he instinctively looked away from her imposing sea green gaze.
Most people would have asked "why?" and he could attempt to explain himself without further humiliation.
Instead, Layne cocked an eyebrow and grinned easily. "Get used to it, Hotz."
Wednesday;
The two met at Tabitha's again the next day. Josh had found himself getting more comfortable in that environment, probably due to the fact that they were half way done with their project and that the coffee was just too damn good.
"Enjoying it?" Layne asked playfully as Josh downed his third cup of coffee. Tabitha's, he quickly realized, was Layne's place. She knew almost everyone who came in, was an expert on what drink to get for whatever mood you were in, and even helped clean up there for free.
Seeing as they had hashed out the major details of their project on the first day there (they settled on a power point and speech), there wasn't much left to do but write up what they were going to say. This led to conversations of things outside of ancient Rome.
Josh nodded. "This coffee is addicting. Good choice on working on everything here."
"Yeah," Layne sighed, "this place is like a second home to me. Tabitha is best friends with my grandma." Josh had only seen the cafe's namesake once, when she gave a very red Layne a bear hug and a box of freshly made muffins. Needless to say, he had liked her right off the bat.
He raised an eyebrow. "Really?" No wonder the place was very retro and old fashioned.
"She had a cafe in Brooklyn, but it had to be closed down because it's so expensive to rent space there. My parents and grandma do a lot of the business aspect of it for her, so when Tabs decided she wanted to move back to Westchester, well..." She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her green tea.
From the way Layne's eyes widened and how she fidgeted in her seat, Josh could tell that this was a story she hadn't disclosed to anyone at school. This was the most she had talked to somebody from Briarwood, he would bet a lot of money on it.
"So that's why you moved here," Josh said, mulling it over in his head, "but how did you get into Briarwood so late?"
She smirked. "They couldn't turn down a genius heiress, " she joked at the rumors surrounding her, "We're too rare." Thinking of Claire, he laughed loudly.
"But seriously," she cleared her throat, "I have no clue. They made me take a bunch of tests and some board chairman interviewed me. One second they're asking me what I got on my PSATs or what college I want to go to, and the next they're offering me a full ride scholarship to hell on earth." She sighed and rested her head in her hand, like just explaining that exhausted her.
"Briarwood's not that bad," Josh said, feeling like he needed to defend his school.
She snorted. "It's not that bad if you're someone like you," she pointed out wisely, causing him to blush. "Look, wanna know the real reason I dress like this?" She gestured to her mechanic inspired outfit. "Because I want nothing to do with those kind of people. The trust fund brats. They just don't get it." He had never heard so much venom in someone's voice. "They can do anything they want with their lives, but they choose to waste it on lavish parties and stupid scandals." She was on a roll now and couldn't be stopped.
Josh didn't want her to, though. As a fellow scholarship student, he knew exactly what she meant. Chris and Claire and all of them had all the money and resources at their fingertips— and they didn't use it.
"So, I'd rather ignore the general public there and stick to myself. I drown them out with good music. We're in high school, all of this pettiness won't matter in five years. Hell, it probably won't even matter in five minutes," she pressed on.
"I'm on scholarship, too," Josh added. Layne looked taken aback by the piece of information, maybe the Ralph Lauren set her off. "So what do you mean when you say it's not that bad for someone like me?"
This time, Layne grinned sheepishly and averted his eyes. "Look at you, Josh. You're Mr. Perfect. Straight A's. Soccer player." She had obviously done her research on him as well, and something about that made Josh want to smile. "You hang out with the right people and go to the right parties and just do everything..."
"Right?" he finished for her with a snicker.
She nodded. "Yes, you know what I mean."
Two days ago, Josh wouldn't have ever imagined speaking to Layne like this. Like they were friends, or at least casual acquaintances. "Look at you, Layne," he started, mimicking her exasperated tone, "you're Miss Mess. Surprisingly good at history. Excellent taste in cafes and mechanic clothing." Layne rolled her eyes at that description, but a smile tugged at her lips.
"You don't hang out with the right people." He gestured at the framed picture of Tabitha on the wall. "But you do know the best people."
Layne let out a long breath and shook her bangs out of her eyes. "Alright, Mr. Perfect, you got jokes, real funny." The pair was silent for a minute, engrossed in their hot drinks, half completed note cards, and sounds of the other patrons.
As expected, she broke the silence very quickly. "You're not who I thought you were, Josh Hotz," she mused airily, like she was half speaking to herself.
Not to be outdone, he replied, "Ditto, Layne Abeley. Ditto."
Thursday;
"So, tell me, " Layne began on their third day at the cafe. They were settled in their favorite spot, hers the purple armchair and his the green sofa. The project was all ready for tomorrow, as Josh had finished the power point and Layne had the speech note cards finished. They didn't have to meet today, but something about talking with Layne, someone he still hardly knew, that made his day lighter. Along with the coffee, of course.
She peered at him over her neon yellow horn rimmed glasses; she was going for a 1950s flight attendant look today. "What's it like to be popular?"
Josh frowned. "What do you mean?"
She chucked a throw pillow at him, nearly spilling his coffee on his fresh white shirt. "You know what I mean. Tell me."
"I thought you wanted nothing to do with trust fund brats?" he recalled teasingly. Somewhere along the lines, they had ventured in the space where it was acceptable to make jokes about one another.
"This is purely scientific," she retorted, "morbid curiosity, even."
He thought back to all the experiences he had with his friends: the parties, the after parties, the soccer games, the jokes, the endless trips that he had to save to go on. After trying to recall one explanation of what it's like to be a so-called A-lister, he was only able to come up with one word to sum up the last two years of his life.
"Honestly," he said, as Layne leaned in expectantly and a rush went through his blood stream, "it's just exhausting." And that was true. It was only fun to be part of the A-list if you had endless funds and time on your hands.
Disappointed, she slouched in her seat with a frown. "Poor baby," she replied sarcastically.
"The alcohol helps," he joked. "There's always a lot of that."
"You know actually," Layne mused, "I never pegged you as the type to hang out with those kinds of people."
He ran a hand through his hair, bemused. "Again, I thought we had broken each others expectations?" She did, most definitely. She wasn't like anyone he had ever met, so observant. It would unnerving if he wasn't used to it by now.
She rocked back and forth a bit, as if she didn't have the right words. "Well, they're so outrageous and spontaneous and you're so..." She scrunched face, searching for the word to describe Josh's un-outrageousness and un-spontaneity. "You're so...not wild."
"And you came to that conclusion in the last two days?"
"Try the last six months. Your academic and athletic achievements are everywhere," she shot back.
"Is not being wild a bad thing?" Josh queried. He wasn't that offended, even he was aware of his own blandness in comparison to his friends. It just didn't suit him.
"Kinda," she answered simply. "You should be wild," she giggled to herself, "I'd pay very good money to see that."
"Sorry, Layne," he sighed, feigning sadness, "we can't all be as wild as you. Sipping green tea at a cute little coffeehouse in a safe neighborhood. You're just too badass—"
"Shut. Up." Now, they were both laughing. For once, Josh felt like he didn't have to be the voice of reason or the wet blanket. She had enough reason of her own, they both knew that. Yet, there was a lingering feeling in the back of his head, like the project brought them together and tomorrow it would send them on their separate ways.
Every second, he learned something about Layne, even when she wasn't saying anything. Her choice of outfit revealed her daring. Her love of green tea showed her quiet side. When she fiddled with her hair or clothes she was nervous. She tugged her ear sometimes when she thought something was funny. While her voice was raspy, her laugh was as airy as they came. They were working on a history project, but he felt like was getting a crash course in Layne 101.
A class, he felt, worth repeating. A class that would end tomorrow.
"Are you going to keep staring at me like that or are you going to finish your coffee?" Layne's dry voice interrupted his train of thought. "Don't tell me, Mr. Perfect is stressing out about tomorrow?" she asked, poking him in the arm.
"Yeah, Mr. Perfect is stressing out about tomorrow," he repeated with a wry grin, poking her back. But about what, he thought, she would never know.
Friday;
As expected, the project went off without a hitch. The power point was perfect, the speeches and explanations made everything clearer, and the confidence Josh and Layne exuded kept people awake. While Josh was an expert at presenting projects, he couldn't help but feel impressed when he heard Layne speak to a crowd. Everyone was captivated when she spoke, mainly because they had never heard her speak that long. Or at all. Either way, Mr. Fielder was very pleased with the outcome.
"Excellent job, Mr. Hotz and Miss Abeley," the teacher beamed at them, "Full marks. You may take your seats." Exchanging a quick victory grin, they went back to their usual spots. Josh in the back with his friends, many of whom were scrambling to finish their own works. Layne went to her desk by the window, took out her earphones and notebook and began to sketch something.
It was like they had never met. Never laughed together. Never spoken. Nothing.
Lunch was no different. His group assembled by the oak tree, everyone groaning about how the practically failed the project and how they should drown their sorrows in the Hamptons and how it would just be the absolute best time ever. Imagining what Layne would think of this conversation, he smiled to himself.
"I bet Josh is happy that this project is over," Claire said with a sickly sweet voice, "you finally got rid of Insane Layne Abeley." She and the others chuckled at the not-so clever moniker. Something about that noise made the hair on his arms stick up and his face grow hot.
Like fate was beckoning on them, Layne walked by the oak tree. Dressed in a long flowery dress, a men's blazer, and fedora— everyone went into hysterics at the sight of her. He knew she had heard them, her trusty earphones were gone. Any other day, Josh would have just thrown in a little snort so he didn't rock the boat. But, the times had changed the past few days and so had he.
It only took him a few seconds to make a decision. "Not quite," he replied to Claire. And he wasn't going to get rid of her yet. Standing up with a rush of adrenaline, he grabbed his bag and walked as quickly away from the oak tree and the A-list and into the right direction— her direction.
"Layne!" he called out her name across the courtyard, not unlike the way she did on Monday. But this time, she turned around the first time.
Upon realizing it was him, she broke out into a tiny smile. "Well, if it isn't—"
Before she could finish that sentence, he planted his lips on hers. Wrapping one around her waist and the other gently on the back of her head, he pulled her closer to him. She didn't object. For the first time in a long time, Josh Hotz wasn't thinking. He didn't plan. He didn't examine the repercussions of kissing Layne Abeley in such a manner in front of so many people. He just continued to ignore his common sense and act on a whim. The kiss lasted a minute, maybe a millennium. All that really truly mattered was now.
When they finally pulled away, Layne was red and flustered. But, her smile had only gotten wider. "What the hell did you do that for?" Her voice cracked.
Sheepishly, he shrugged and looked her dead in the eye. "I was being wild." He chuckled at his own boldness. "Somebody once told me that I should be more wild."
"They were on to something," she replied, setting her fedora back on her head.
Trying to stay in the moment, Josh wheeled the conversation to the future. "So, are you busy Saturday night?" he asked, messing with his own hair nervously.
Layne cocked a hip and stared at him in disbelief. "Yeah," she said dryly, "I was planning on going to the Hamptons and hanging out with my fellow genius heiresses." She paused for a moment before saying, "so I'm not doing anything at all. Why?"
"I was thinking you could, you know, give me more tips on how to be wild," he said in a very serious voice, "purely scientific." There wasn't words to describe the feeling of impulsiveness. Chaos had found a place in Josh Hotz's life, and it went by the name of Layne.
She nodded her head gravely. "You're right, you need all the help you can get," she replied, trying very hard to keep a straight face. "Where do you want to go?"
"Oh, don't worry," Josh said with an easy grin, grabbing her hand and leading her away from the spectacle that was Briarwood, "I know the perfect place."
AN: Oh, wasn't that just a mess of fluff? I hope you all enjoy it, think of it as a thank you for all the reviewers out there. You guys are amazing and I wish I could buy you all a cup of delicious coffee.
I'm planning to update "It Takes A Thief" soon, so look out for that!
Reviews for this one would make my day :D Go on, guys, be wild and review.
love and coffee,
Ren :)